


Under Changing Stars

by Scruggzi



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, MFMM Whumptober, Tipsy shagnanigans, in a field, unanticipated hedgehog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 16:57:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16453814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scruggzi/pseuds/Scruggzi
Summary: Phryne and Jack wander home from a swanky party across the fields. A totally fluffy, smutty response to the whumptober prompt 'poison'.





	Under Changing Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inzannatea (Zanna23)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanna23/gifts).



> Because I'm the worst and easily distracted by hedgehogs I totally forgot to gift this as a belated Happy Birthday to Inzannatea - who brought us the beautiful image of Jack holding a hedgehog as part of her wonderful Inktoberfest series which if you haven't checked out do so it's awesome. 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/16182335/chapters/38407196

“I’m fairly sure that last drink was pure poison.” Jack slurred, staggering slightly on the uneven ground.

“You suspect the Earl of Norwich of foul play?” Phryne giggled, swaying a little herself but with a little more grace than her partner who was trying to avoid the indignity of being sick in a hedge. “I have to admit he didn’t seem especially pleased by your presence. I can’t imagine what’s got into him.”

Phryne knew full well what had got ‘Barty’ in such a snit of course, he had not expected Phryne to bring her partner to his little soiree and had in fact invited her in the hopes of having her all to himself. He had rather publicly declared the rumours that she was practically engaged to some lowly antipodean civil servant to be ‘utter rot’ and according to reasonably reliable intelligence, had actually made a bet to the effect that he would be able to tempt her into his bed. The bet had been with Phryne’s cousin Guy Stanley who had, after a thorough dressing down, agreed to split his winnings with her.

Phryne had accepted the dinner invitation mainly out of a sense of mischief, although she did rather look forward to taking the fool’s money off him. In addition, the Earl’s younger sister Lucy – who had been barely into her teens the last time Phryne had seen her – was now out in society and had a reputation for being both intelligent and rather charming. What with the deft humiliation of the unfortunate Earl, the evening had actually been very entertaining, not least because Lucy had lived up to her reputation. Phryne was determined to introduce the girl to Jane at the earliest opportunity, she would sure the two of them would get along like a house on fire. In addition, the food had been excellent and the alcohol plentiful. A little too plentiful.

It was the European summer of 1932, and Phryne had brought Jack with her on a promised visit to her mother, whose health was worsening - although Phryne had put her in touch with a new doctor who seemed to have improved matters somewhat. On her advice, Margaret had been moved from London to a country residence, away from the city smog, and Phryne and Jack had come along to help her and Henry – who naturally did nothing but complain –   settle into their new home.

The weather had been pleasantly warm all week, the night air was balmy and the stars overhead bright and strange. Jack in his tipsy state seemed unable to stop looking at them, marvelling at the way a thing, so seemingly constant, could in fact be so changeable. He knew the stars of the northern hemisphere well from his years spent in the trenches. At times, they had felt like the one beautiful thing amidst all that ugliness and they shone on him now like old friends, turning the world into an enticing maze of silver and shadows.

It was Phryne who suggested the walk, the Fisher residence was less than three miles away across the fields and it would do them no harm to get a bit of air after the stuffy, cigar saturated miasma they had left inside. She held onto his arm, but as they were both equally worse for whatever hazardous concoctions those last two... three… no four, four cocktails had been, this merely led to a leisurely sway back and forth across the lawn.

The path through the ornamental gardens ended in a little copse of trees and then a stile, leading to a large meadow. The stile proved something of a challenge. Phryne eyed it suspiciously, wondering if she could manage the climb without ruining her heels. Jack, who had the advantage of flat dress shoes, vaulted over with more enthusiasm than grace, only just managing to keep his footing.

“Show off,” Phryne grumbled at him, hitching up her skirt to proceed with a little more elegance, accepting his hand to help her down.

The deliberation with which she ended up ‘falling’ into his arms, as she stepped onto the dry grass of the field, made them both smile as if sharing a secret.

“Careful now, Miss Fisher. I don’t want to have to carry you home.”

“Hmph, not likely Jack. Besides, you were the one who nearly landed on your arse.” She giggled and squeezed the arse in question for emphasis.

“Right, that does it.”

Jack scooped her up, tossing her over his shoulder and began to carry her along the rough field track towards another little wood, this one separating the Earl’s residence from the Fisher’s new estate. Phryne was caught between screams of laughter and protest, beating ineffectually at Jack’s back with her fists as he struggled to stay upright.

“Put me down! I’m warning you Jack, there will be dire consequences for this!”

“Terrifying. If only you knew someone in law enforcement.”

Phryne managed turn the tables by working her hands under Jack’s dinner jacket and mercilessly attacking the ticklish spot below his ribs. Jack, helpless with laughter was forced to put her down to keep from dropping her.

“You don’t fight fair,” he complained, as she stepped again into his personal space and worked her hands back under his jacket, this time teasing her fingers under the hem of his waistcoat.

“Of course not.”

She kissed him, smiling and eager, sloppy-drunk on love and whatever the hell had been in those cocktails. Jack returned the sentiment, feeling like a young man again, sneaking out of his parents’ house to share stolen kisses in the botanical gardens with Lizzy Price from down the street. But even in the infatuation and excitement of youth, Lizzy Price had never been as bewitching as the woman in his arms now.

“I need to get you home,” he growled out between kisses.

He could feel himself growing hard against her as she pressed her whole body into his. At this rate he was going to have a deeply uncomfortable walk, but somehow, he couldn’t seem to stop his hands from roaming over her silk clad frame under the light velvet cape that hung from her shoulders. Phryne, however, had other ideas. Still grinning as if she had just beaten him to a vital clue, she let all her muscles go limp without warning, teetering backwards and pulling him down into the soft grass.

Taken unawares, Jack toppled over and had just enough presence of mind to catch himself on his hands so as not to crush her. If Phryne was winded at all by the fall she didn’t show it, her kisses this time were carnal and determined, her hands already at his trouser fastenings, caressing him through his clothes.

If his better, or at least more cautious, nature was sounding a note of warning at the idea of letting himself get carried away - or more accurately led astray - in an open field, Jack was not in the mood to listen. He unfastened the cape, and his hands found its way under the silk of Phryne’s dress and the satin of her lingerie. She was dripping and ready for him already, something which was made very clear by the firm, almost possessive, stroke of her hand on his cock as she pulled off his trousers and guided him inside her.

They both moaned aloud at the sensation, foreheads pressed together for a moment of stillness before they began to move. It was fast and filthy, with no finesse and no foreplay – although Phryne considered spending an entire evening with Jack Robinson in evening-wear to be foreplay enough for anyone. Lying on her back with the velvet of her cape between her and the sweet-smelling grass, she could see Jack’s face alive with pleasure and excitement, no sign of the dour Inspector tonight. He was so beautiful like this; it was a part of him so few people had the privilege of seeing and the jealousy with which she guarded the secret had come as a shock. She had never wanted to think of anyone as ‘hers’ before.

Jack had made a careful study of Phryne in the throws of passion over the years; he had experimented, investigating and cataloguing all the ways he could find to bring her pleasure. She was mercurial in so many parts of her life that the multiplicity of facets to her hedonism came as no surprise. The intensity of their waltz had led to some long, slow nights; he had carefully mapped every flawless inch of her skin with his lips before taking her with his tongue and fingers, made love to her with a thoroughness and devotion that drew her pleasure out for hours until she begged him to fuck her. He had let her tie him down and tease him until he was the one begging. There were so many ways to enjoy each other and if it took the rest of his life, he planned to discover them all.

Tonight was different again, a chaotic blur of ecstasy and desire. Her kisses tasted of gin and exotic fruits, the cool air was light against his skin; he could smell the scent of rich earth and wild-flowers, hear their heavy breathing mingle with the gentle hum of the night. He was lost in the warm tight caress of her body around him as he thrust into her again and again, and she moaned his name and fucked him back, her hips thrusting up to meet his, her hands tight against his bare arse. He could feel her muscles clench around him as she came.

Phryne’s head was still spinning with the force of her climax as she rolled Jack onto his back and rose above him, riding him hard and fast until her name spilled from his mouth like a common curse. She reached up to the fastening of her dress and whipped the whole thing off, letting it fly away unheeded into the darkness.

Her bare skin in the starlight was ethereally pale, a temptress, a siren, some ancient goddess or fairy queen beyond the reach of men. Jack propped himself on one hand and allowed himself the sacrilege of taking one of her nipples between his lips and suckling hard, batting at the pointed tip with his tongue. She gasped and plunged her hands into his hair, bending her back to push her breast further into his mouth.

Phryne felt herself lifted slightly and she wrapped her knees around Jack’s hips as he shifted his legs beneath him, holding her up with a hand at the small of her back. She dropped her knees back to the grass and they used the additional leverage to speed up the pace, tongues dancing against each other, Jack’s free hand pinching Phryne’s nipple between his fingers. She came again, a bright flash that escaped as a muted string of _fuck-fuck-fucks_ whimpered into his neck. She bit down on the sensitive skin she found beneath her mouth and gloried in the feel of his release filling her as he let himself go, matching her curse for curse.

They lay back panting on the grass and, more out of instinct than because she was actually cold, Phryne drew her cloak over them like a blanket. There was a certain poignancy to this moment, when they were spent and returning to earth; she couldn’t have put it into words but somehow it felt more private, more intimate than anything else they had done that evening. Ridiculous thought for a woman who had just stripped down to her stockings in a field – albeit a deserted one.

Jack held her close, blinking as the blurred stars above him resolved once again into their familiar constellations. A slow, sardonic smirk spread from his eyes to lurk at the corner of his mouth. _The things he let her talk him into._ He caressed the bare skin of her back in gratitude; so much had changed in his world and he had changed so much. The young man, who fought for king and country beneath these stars, might have seen his story as a fall from grace into debauchery, but Jack knew better. Besides, he had long suspected that young man had at times been a pompous arse.

They lay quietly for some time, enjoying the warmth of each other’s skin and the quiet noises of the night, cosy in their impromptu bed of grass. Eventually though, Phryne started to shiver and Jack rose, leaving her wrapped in her cloak, to retrieve their clothing. His trousers and under-shorts were easy enough to find – the white cotton showing up clearly against the dark ground. He shrugged them on, taking a few moments to locate Phryne’s dress.

Thanks to some combination of the wind and Phryne’s enthusiasm in removing it, the gown had ended up partially tangled in a hedge at the edge of the field. Untangling its many layers without damaging it was a little delicate but after a few moments Phryne heard Jack’s succinct “Aha!” as he managed to retrieve it. It was followed a second later by a surprised “Hello there,” directed at something on the ground.

Feeling both curious and a little chilly, Phryne hurried over to reclaim her dress and find out what it was that had caught Jack’s attention. He was crouched down, wearing an expression of frank curiosity, and handed the garment over to her vaguely, his eyes still on whatever it was under the hedge that had caught his attention. She soon saw what it was. Under the tangled mass of hawthorn that ran in a ring around the meadow, its black eyes catching the starlight, was a large hedgehog.

“Whatever might you be?” Jack asked softly, obviously rather taken with the little beast.

It twitched its nose at them and deciding that the interest of two large predatory mammals was more trouble than it had planned for its evening, promptly rolled itself into a ball.

“It’s just a hedgehog Jack, have you never seen one before?”

“Is it?” he sounded genuinely surprised. “I thought they were larger and more…” he stopped and shook his head, seemingly following his own train of thought.

“Jack, sweet as the little fellow is, we still have more than a mile to walk before bed.”

“Yes, of course,” he smiled at her a little sheepishly and stood up, brushing dust off his knees.

Once Phryne was dressed and wrapped again in her velvet cloak, he offered her an arm and together they made their way towards home.

“Penny for your thoughts, Jack?” She asked, noticing her partner’s continued silence.

“It’s a silly thing really,” he shot her a tiny, self-depreciating smile, “for maybe 30 years I’ve been thinking of hedgehogs as these sinister, dangerous creatures…”

He was interrupted by a snort of laughter from Phryne. “Wherever did you get that idea?”

“Well I’m not likely to see one in Victoria,” he pointed out, “and in Shakespeare they mostly turn up in connection with witches or evil spirits. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a picture either, and the one I’ve been carrying around in my head turned out to be a long way off the mark.”

“Yes, you may sleep soundly tonight, safe in the knowledge that you will not be molested by hedgehogs of any kind.”

“I suspect there will be a far more dangerous presence in my bed, Miss Fisher.”

“Well, there I cannot promise safety from molestation, Jack, but I can promise to make sure you enjoy it.”

Jack chuckled, pressing a swift kiss to his partner’s lips as they walked; the air and the walk had done him good, he decided. Not to mention other activities. They were both a little more steady on their feet as they approached the Fisher Estate, although he was still having a hard time taking his eyes off of the stars, and the beautiful woman at his side. There were many things he had been so certain about as a young man - duty, honour, marriage. He had once wanted, with all sincerity, to become the youngest Police Commissioner in the Commonwealth. Ideas and dreams, exaggerated in their importance by youthful ignorance, lined up like so many sinister hedgehogs, ready to be deflated by the reality of lived experience.

He glanced back for a moment towards the field in which they had shared such a memorable portion of their evening, one his younger self would never have considered likely. He really _was_ quite a sweet little fellow, that hedgehog, and it was rather wonderful to think that this unforeseen path he had chosen was so very full of unexpected surprises. 


End file.
